This weekend was spent mostly suffering the symptoms of PMS. Everything to erratic mood swings to swollen, painful breasts. Urgh. It was horrific. At one stage, I was so angry that I wanted to smash everything in the house.
Hulk-rage, full swing, although I tried my best to control the hormones, heading downstairs when I felt like it was becoming difficult to contain. I lay there for a while, alone in the darkness. My mind was swimming with dark thoughts, rage and despair. I haven’t felt quite so out of control in ages.
I turned over. There he was beside me. He’d creeped in, lay down beside me and asked if I wanted to cuddle. I lay there for ages just holding him. He wanted to help and wanted to know how. I didn’t have an answer for him. He suggested going upstairs and having a smoke, that it might chill me out a little. He was right. We did and it did.
I felt like myself again, like I’d gained some element of control back. He spent the rest of the weekend looking after me. Ordered food on Sunday night, bought me ice-cream, gave me massages, cuddles, kisses and just chilling out with me and being with me.
This is so nice for me. I used to have to cry to get my ex-boyfriend’s attention. Now all I have to do is be myself and he knows me well enough to know what I’m thinking and feeling.
I love talking to him. About everything. We have such interesting conversations – some deep and meaningful, others silly and surreal. I like that he’s intelligent and open-minded enough to see my (often crazy) alternative viewpoints on different topics. He loves to ramble, and I love to listen to him.
The PMS continues to rage and still no sign of my fucking period. I need to get my period so that I can go back on my pill and we can start having sex again. Obviously, we’ve been doing other stuff but, sometimes I just want to hold him down and fuck him.